Up To It
by Silvestria
Summary: At a concert for his band, The Tomcats, rebellious schoolgirl Sybil Crawley meets amateur drummer Tom Branson for the first time. University Challenge backstory. Modern AU.


_A/N: From a request for a drabble on tumblr, here is the first meeting of Tom and Sybil in the_ University Challenge_ universe. Next chapter of the story (i.e. UC) will probably be written by hand and candlelight during Hurricane Sandy and I will post it as soon as possible. I'm so sorry for how long it's taken - writing while travelling on holiday has not turned out to be a priority... Hope you enjoy this in the meantime! :) I don't intend this to be longer than a chapter at present but it would be nice to explore S/B's backstory so I might write more at some point!_

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**Up To It**

The set ended with a wild drum solo. The bobble had come out of Sybil's hair a long time ago and been lost in the meantime and she let herself completely go with the music. Results of her GCSE mocks faded into insignificance, and the school week was washed away in pure sensation. To think that music like this could be such a powerful force was incredible. She had not felt such excitement coursing through her veins since her younger years and some of her more successful ballet shows. Before she had exchanged dancing for teenage rebellion.

When the drummer finally stopped, the noise rang in her ears for many moments afterwards. She only raised her head and brushed her hair out of her face when she became aware of her friend Daisy's voice in her ear and pulling on her sleeve.

"That was ___so_cool!" Daisy was saying. "And isn't the guitarist so, so hot. Can we get his autograph?"

Sybil blinked at her. "Which one? Lily's brother or the other one?"

"Oh, the other one." She giggled nervously. "Will's not hot. But look at him!"

Sybil focused her eyes on the stage and at the sleek, dark-haired guitarist her friend was crushing on. "Yeah, he's okay, I guess. But seriously, you're not getting an autograph from him - save it for someone famous. Seriously, Daisy. Let's go to the bar."

"One day he might be famous…" But she allowed herself to be led through the crowds to the drinks' table at the back of the hall.

There was an inevitable scrum round the drinks. Sybil elbowed and Daisy followed but they still had to wait their turn.

"I thought this would be really lame," she shouted, "but it's not at all. They're really, really good!"

"Why thank you!" cried a male voice on her other side with a hint of an Irish lilt.

Sybil turned her head quickly to meet the bright, blue eyes of… yes, of one of the band's members. He was shorter in real life than he had seemed on stage. She drew in a breath.

"Oh! You're in the band. That last piece was _amazing_. Your solo was - it was so exciting. I've never heard anything like it," she finished earnestly.

His eyes twinkled at her. "Damn straight, if I say so myself. Can I get you a drink? You've been waiting ages."

"Thanks! A coke please."

He raised his eyebrows. "Just a coke? C'mon, live a little."

She grinned, she couldn't help it. "And rum. ___Ob_viously."

"Same for you?" He looked over at Daisy, but her eyes were wide and she shook her head. "Just coke, please…"

The drummer was able to pass easily through the crowds and Sybil and Daisy fell back and waited.

"My step-mum'd have a fit if I had alcohol. She says there's a reason the drinking age is eighteen and I wouldn't be able to cope with it," Daisy was saying, looking around and biting her nails. Sybil tuned her out. "She says I'd be a lightweight for sure. I dunno though. I think I could cope. Like, how am I going to know if I never try? Hey, Sybs, do you think this guy can introduce us to the guitarist? I don't remember who he is."

"He's the drummer," she replied vaguely. "He's amazing."

The boy returned with their drinks and Sybil sipped her first rum and coke gingerly. She couldn't even taste the alcohol though so she then drank it with more confidence.

"So…" said the boy, looking at them. "Enjoying it?"

"Yeah, it's really nice," said Daisy just as if she were complimenting her step-mother on the dinner settings. Sybil was quite inexplicably struck with shyness when he looked at her with such piercing eyes, away from the loudness and muddle of the bar area.

"Yeah," she echoed and stared into her drink.

"I'm Tom," he said after a short pause. "Tom Branson."

She forced herself to meet his eyes. "I'm Sybil Crawley."

Tom held out his hand. "Awesome. Jeez, your parents are old-fashioned, aren't they, to give you a name like that?"

"You have no idea!" She laughed nervously and quickly added, "Is the band called The Tomcats because of you then?"

He laughed too, heartily and as if what she had said was really worth responding too. "Our lead guitarist is also a Thomas and it's his band really but hey, I can dream it's for me!"

"It should be for you!" cried Sybil, drowning out Daisy who was asking if Thomas was _the really hot one_. "You could be a pro. Do you want to be a pro?"

She was rambling, she knew she was rambling but she couldn't stop. He didn't seem to mind though.

"I want to be lots of things. I guess professional drummer wouldn't be such a bad life! What about you? Nice hair by the way."

Her heart lept suddenly and she glowed. "Do you think so? Nobody seems to like it and I got detention for a week at school but there's nothing they can do about it until the dye wears off."

"I like it," said Tom, becoming instantly the coolest person Sybil had ever met in all her life. "Shows personality."

She became a little bolder and stood a little straighter. "I thought so too. And it's in the school colours anyway, so I don't know why they're complaining!"

He laughed again. "Some people. Honestly, you keep on at them, Sybil. They'll come round."

"It's not as if the colour of my hair affects my ability to work!" she cried, thrilled that finally somebody understood. She took a large, defiant swig of rum and coke.

"'Course it doesn't." He grinned at her and she grinned back and Daisy could have fallen down a black hole for all they remembered her presence.

A long time (or a short time) later, he swallowed. "Look, I should go and warm up for the next set but…" He glanced around. "You doing anything tomorrow?"

Sybil's eyes widened.

"Just homework… but it's not important! Why?"

"Well, we could hang out, if you liked."

"Okay." She bit her lip. Everything felt light and fizzing and warm and rather pleasant and it could be the rum or it could be him, she was not sure. "Where do you want to go?"

He shrugged. "South Bank? There's usually some good stuff going on there."

"Yeah, okay."

They exchanged numbers quickly and then Tom was called away by the rest of the band.

"D'you know who you were talking to just then?" said Will Mason as they went into the dressing room.

"Sybil Crawley," he replied, before adding smugly, "and we're going on a date. Get in there, ohhh yes!"

Will stopped walking. "Lady Sybil Crawley. You're going on a date with Lady Sybil Crawley."

"Lady Sybil Crawley? What does that mean then?"

"It ___means_that Sybil is the daughter of the lord of somewhere-or-other. Lily's in her class at school. You sure you're up to playing with the big guns, Tom?"

He folded his arms and looked back out across the hall. He could no longer see Sybil but he knew she was there with her wonderful purple hair and bright eyes and determination to take risks (as if it wasn't completely obvious that was her first proper drink). His lips curved into a smile.

"Yeah, I think I'm up to it."


End file.
